


time's forever frozen still

by dragmeddown



Series: we'll keep this love in a photograph [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Heartbreak, Light Angst, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Narry angst, Post-Break Up, Relationship(s), Sad, i literally have no idea of how angsty this is forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragmeddown/pseuds/dragmeddown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry breaks up with Niall, but the first holiday spent apart is rough for him.</p>
<p>Used this prompt but changed some parts:<br/>“today was the first family gathering i’ve been to since we broke up and my little cousin that absolutely adored you asked where you were and i had to lock myself in the bathroom and sit in the tub for a half an hour and look through a folder on my phone of pictures i took of you to feel okay again¨ AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	time's forever frozen still

Harry made his way to his room. Not that he spent much time in there; he had practically migrated into Niall’s room as soon as they had moved in together. His room was more of a storage room for his things. He had fold-out cardboard boxes stashed under his mattress, and he dug them out now, pulling and pushing and shoving everything into them, methodically filling them up and moving on to the next one. He had been keeping the boxes for a while - he had meant to tell Niall for quite some time, but he could never bring himself to go through with it. He knew how much it was going to hurt both of them, and he thought that maybe by postponing it, it could be avoided. 

He had decided that today was the day. It had to happen. He had called his mum; she was on her way. He needed to get everything into the boxes for when she arrived, so that they could just load everything into the car and get the hell out of there. Because he could not deal with another night with Niall after what he was about to do. He wouldn’t be able to cope, and he was fairly sure that Niall wouldn’t want him there either. 

It did feel incredibly crude and cold, what he was going to do. In his mind, it was the only way. He knew that they had to end it here. For a thousand reasons. Because as much as he loved Niall, and Niall loved him, it wasn’t going to work. They wanted different things in life, and Harry couldn’t see it working. As much as it broke his heart, he couldn’t see a future there. They were happy, yes, and in love, but in the long run, Harry wasn’t sure that even that could be enough. That they could be enough. He knew that it sounded melodramatic, but it was how he felt and there wasn't much he could do about it. 

He checked the alarm clock - 15:04 - before wedging it carefully between some books and photo frames. He had to go. He was meeting Niall at 15:15, in the park. On the bridge. He was coming straight from football training. 

_Twenty minutes later_

Harry turned on his heel, away from Niall, and walked off the bridge, not daring to look back as tears pushed past his eyelids and flooded his cheeks. They dried almost instantly in the heat. It was a blisteringly hot afternoon in late August, and the formerly green grass that covered the park had turned into a wasteland of coarse, yellow-brown blades and dust. The sky was a dizzy blue, and the water in the pond underneath the bridge was green as glass with algae threatening to flare up, lurking just below the surface.

Harry noticed none of this as he walked briskly with his head down, using his long hair to hide his face which was getting redder and puffier by the minute. Before long, he was out of the park, on the street, dodging a particularly curious dog and its owner, the sounds of the world around him flowing into his ears but not registering in the slightest. He walked, one foot in front of the other, counting his footsteps in twos as he made his way home. He had to get home.

Harry couldn’t properly make sense of what had happened until he was sat down at his mum's kitchen table with a glass of juice that she had poured out for him in his hand, exhausted from crying. He remembered that he had gone to meet Niall on the bridge in the park at 2 o’clock, which seemed a lifetime ago, and he remembered that he had promised himself that he’d tell him. Tell Niall that he had to break it off with him. Starting from the moment that he had seen Niall there, leaning with his elbows on the rail of the bridge, looking down at the water, he had felt like he was on autopilot. Like the actions he was carrying out weren’t his own, that the words coming from his mouth were being thought out by somebody else entirely and only articulated by him. He had been cold, he had been bleak, he had been numb. He hadn’t kissed Niall on the cheek, as was their customary greeting. He hadn’t held his hand while they stood on the bridge in silence, the calm before the storm - Niall had, by this point, understood that something was wrong - and he hadn’t flinched when he had broken it to him. That they had to end it. That _he_ was ending it.

This thought made the tears well back up in his eyes, even though he was sure that he had dispelled every single one already. He didn’t even want to think about what Niall was feeling right now. He desperately wanted to call him, or text him. To ask whether he was okay. But he knew that he couldn’t do that. Niall had probably deleted him already. He wondered where Niall was now, what he was doing. Harry hoped that he would be okay, in the end. But he knew that no matter what, he couldn’t call. He couldn’t stand hearing Niall hurt, or sad. He knew that he had hurt Niall, and it was making it difficult for him to live with himself. He had to distance himself, so that Niall could be free, too. It wasn't just about him. And he knew that Niall didn’t understand that now, and that he might never see things from Harry’s point of view. Harry could only hope that he’d move on, and do so quickly. Make it easier on himself.

Everything was jumbling up in Harry’s head; he felt like every thought he was having was being screamed out as soon as it materialized, and then left to clog up his head space. He left his glass on the table and lay down on his back on the cold kitchen floor. He needed to not feel anything for a while; he needed his mind to be quiet.

_Halloween, two months later_

Harry was leaning on the edge of the sink, staring himself down in the mirror. His little cousin’s words echoed in his ears. 

“Where’s Niall?” she had asked eagerly, as if she expected the answer to be “just in the kitchen” or “he’s upstairs unpacking”. She had looked so joyful when she had ran in ahead of her parents and saw Harry sitting on the sofa, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. Harry’s mum had looked over to him, panic-stricken.

“He’s..he’s not here, Maisie, I’m sorry, he had to...” she looked over to Harry, who was considerably tense, no longer looking at his phone but staring past it at his feet. 

Harry’s mum had been instrumental in piecing Harry back together after the breakup, and she thought that he had recovered well. But the holidays, Halloween especially, had been one of Harry and Niall’s favorite holidays to spend together; spending it alone was taking a toll on Harry. He had arrived at his parents’ place yesterday after taking a long weekend off work, and his mum could tell that he wasn’t on form. She had consoled him, made him a warm drink, and rubbed his back while he sat silently, not wanting to talk in case he might cry. The first holiday spent without Niall was difficult. She thought herself very lucky to have such a close bond with her son, that she was able to support him regardless of the situation. 

“He had to go,” she had finished, “I’m sorry Maisie. He’s not coming anymore.”

“Oh,” Maisie had replied, disappointed as she had flopped down next to Harry and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Niall had been one of her favorites - he always gave her the best Halloween facepaint and slipped her sweets when the parents looked the other way. Niall and Harry had always accompanied her for trick or treating in the neighbourhood, and they had taken turns carrying her on their shoulders when her legs got tired. 

“Where has he gone, Harry?” she had asked, poking at his cheek. Harry had gazed wearily up at his mother, silently pleading her to handle the situation. How did you explain to a five year-old that Niall wasn’t here because Harry had ended it with him? Because something hadn’t been right, even though they had seemed inseparable, like they would last forever. Because Harry had broken both his and Niall’s hearts by breaking it off?

“I, erm, I’ve got to use the toilet,” Harry had supplied when his mother didn’t immediately reply to Maisie’s very difficult question. He had gotten up from the sofa and walked mechanically out of the living room, into the hallway, up the stairs and to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and now here he was, leaning on the sink, gripping on for dear life.

He stared at himself in the mirror and his reflection blurred. He realised seconds later that it was because the tears were back again. He hadn’t cried over Niall in almost a month, and he was angry at himself for breaking his streak. He had thought that he was more or less over Niall - clearly this wasn’t the case, or he wouldn’t be here, tears gently splashing into the sink. 

He felt dizzy; his head hurt, and he needed to sit down. For lack of a better place, he climbed into the bathtub and lay back, pretending that he was submerged in hot water. He closed his eyes in an effort to stop crying, but the tears squeezed out regardless and it made his headache worse. He opened his eyes, gasping ever so quietly as he tried to get his breath back, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, willing himself to _stop crying already_.

Finally, he dug his phone out of his back pocket and opened his camera roll. He had a folder in there, a folder that he hadn’t visited in a long, long time. It was one where he had compiled all of the photos of him and Niall that he had. His mum had advised him to delete it, but he hadn’t the heart to do it. He hesitated for a split-second, before deciding that he really couldn’t be much more of a mess than he was now, and clicked on the folder. The memories flooded back as he clicked on the first photo. The place where it all began.

_First photo, taken on their first date_

_“Harry?”_

_“Yeah, Niall?”_

_“D’you...d’you want to go for lunch tomorrow?”_

_“Niall, we go for lunch most days. What makes you think that tomorrow is an exception?”_

_They were in the library. It was early May and their final exams were coming up, and they had agreed to stay at the library to study together since they never really got work done in their dorms anyway. It was past 11, and they were both drowsy to say the least, threatening to fall asleep right there on their open books._

_“Yeah, I know, but I was thinking...I was going to make a picnic, and… I don’t know, forget it, it’s silly,we go for lunch every day, like you said,” Niall finished, his cheeks reddening as he hastily flipped some pages to create noise._

_“Niall,” Harry asked quietly, “are you asking me on a date? A picnic date?”_

_Niall looked up and was relieved to see that Harry was smiling. “Yeah, that’s what...yes, Harry, I’m asking you on a picnic date with me.”_

_Harry reached out for Niall’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. “When and where?” he grinned._

_Harry met Niall in the university park at 12 sharp. Niall had gotten there earlier so that he could get everything ready. He wasn’t really an expert at wooing, but he thought that he had done a more than satisfactory job with the picnic which consisted of bananas, raspberries, little sandwiches filled with tomato, mozzarella and pesto, assorted bars of chocolate, and some pop rocks - Harry’s favorite. Niall had also dropped by Harry’s favorite café and picked up his signature drink - a mint chocolate frappé. He had everything laid out on the navy blue picnic blanket, and was just about to take a picture when a shadow threw itself over the blanket. He turned, and there he was - Harry._

_“Hey,” he said simply, grinning as he beheld the picnic laid out in front of him._

_“Hey,” Niall replied. He hadn’t really been nervous until now, and he fumbled with his phone as he tried to shove it in his pocket as fast as possible and smoothed the picnic blanket, moving over to make room for Harry to sit down next to him._

_Surprisingly, their first date wasn’t awkward in the slightest. It didn’t feel that different from their usual times together, or at least it didn’t until Harry worked up the courage to reach for Niall’s hand and hold it in his own. Niall laced his fingers through Harry’s in approval, and they lay back on the blanket to look up at the sky._

_“Here’s to a second date,” Harry laughed gently after a bout of silence._

_“Really?” Niall asked, pushing himself up on his elbows, looking down at Harry in surprise. He hadn’t thought that Harry would be this eager._

_“Yes, Niall,” Harry said, giving his hand another squeeze. Niall lay back, and they resumed watching the clouds._

_“Harry,” Niall said, interrupting the silence. “You’re the photographer type. Take a photo? Something to remember this by?” he asked, not looking at Harry but instead gazing up into the sky._

_A short burst of laughter came from Harry, and next thing he was getting his phone out._

_“What should I take a photo of?” he asked Niall earnestly, after he had opened the camera app._

_“I don’t know, Harry, whatever you like. However you want to remember this,” he replied, gesturing at the blanket, the empty plastic boxes, themselves. “Anything you like.”_

_Harry lay back and pouted as he considered his options._

_“What about,” he said as he leaned over to Niall, “this?”_

The photo had ended up being one of Harry kissing Niall on the cheek. It had come as a surprise to Niall, but the photo had been taken after the surprise had registered and Niall’s mouth was ever so slightly open but curved in a smile, the tops of his cheeks pushing his sunglasses up his face a little as he lay on his back. There was a little bit of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. Harry’s cheekbones were visible as he pouted, kissing Niall’s cheek ever so gently. He was smiling too. Harry’s white t-shirt, together with the green grass, blue blanket, and Niall’s blonde hair made for a calm colour scheme. 

Looking at the photo, Harry felt the same euphoria that he had felt that day. He felt at peace, he felt safe. He flicked on to the next photo in the folder.

_Second photo, taken in Mullingar when they were visiting Niall’s family in the summer_

_“Come on, Harry, oh, watch the step,” Niall giggled as he and Harry slipped through the sliding doors leading from the kitchen to the back garden. Niall was clutching a tub of ice cream in his hands, and Harry was armed with two big spoons. They raced each other down the full length of the garden, to the very far end where there was a trampoline. Neither was wearing shoes, and they somersaulted onto the trampoline, one after the other, landing in a heap in the middle._

_“Oi, watch your elbow,” Harry grumbled after Niall had just hit him square in the stomach._

_“Sorry, sorry,” Niall laughed as he untangled himself from Harry and sat cross-legged. Harry took his position opposite, and Niall cracked open the ice cream (a large tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, a shared favorite of the two). They sat on the trampoline, talking about this and that, enjoying the ice cream and the uncharacteristically (for Ireland) hot day. It was the summer after they had both graduated from university, and they were basking in the glory of it all before they had to get back into the daily grind. Both had found a job in the same city, and they were currently in the gruelling process of apartment-hunting. None of that mattered now though, as the childlike excitement of sneaking a huge tub of ice cream out of the house and onto the trampoline consumed them. _

_“Niall, we’re going to have to work harder,” Harry said matter-of-factly, “if we want to finish this before it melts completely.” He tapped at the tub with his spoon; they had made it almost three-quarters of the way through, but the remaining quarter was pretty much ice cream soup._

_Niall was about to reply, but he stopped. There was something so breathtaking about Harry in this very moment, so much so that he had to get out his phone and quickly take a picture. Harry hadn’t noticed as he stirred the melted ice cream, rescuing chunks of chocolate as they surfaced._

This was a photo that Niall had sent Harry afterwards, but it reminded Harry of that day so much that he lingered on it. He was wearing a pair of light-wash denim shorts, cuffs rolled up, and a white t-shirt with a logo on that he couldn’t quite make out as the shirt wrinkled and folded over his torso. He was hunched over comfortably, spoon in the tub. His hair was falling over his face slightly, because he had actually put his sunglasses to good use rather than just letting them rest on his head, keeping his hair back. He wasn’t smiling; he had on a look of sheer concentration, which was funny because it wasn’t as though he had any deep, pressing concerns at the time, fishing out chocolate chunks. Niall’s striped socks were visible in the bottom corner of the photo. Next.

_Third photo, first night in the new apartment_

_“Harry, help me with these boxes yeah? They’re the last ones,” Niall called from the stairs outside the door. Harry had already comfortable settled onto the sofa, scrolling on his phone, thinking that they had gotten everything and that Niall was tipping the van driver or something. Clearly he was mistaken, but despite his comfort, he tucked his phone into his jeans pocket and traipsed into the stairwell._

_He looked down, and could make out the edge of Niall, on the landing below. He leapt down the stairs, and got the full picture. Niall was bent over, hands on his thighs, panting slightly. They hadn’t considered that the lack of an elevator in this six-storey building would be a problem when the time came to move in. Especially since they had ended up with the apartment on the topmost floor._

_“Which one’s heavier?” Harry asked, pointing at the two boxes that Niall had already hauled up._

_“That one, it’s the kitchen stuff,” Niall said defeatedly, gesturing at the larger box. Harry hoisted up the box, letting it rest on his hip._

_“Come on then, we still have to actually unpack all of this,” he laughed as he began the ascent up the last flight of stairs._

_He put the box down with a clang, and ran back down the stairs, grabbing the last box from Niall’s arms and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead as he turned and ran back up, euphoric that they had finally carried every single box up._

_The next few hours were consumed by unpacking. Deciding what goes where was surprisingly difficult. Nevertheless, they powered through each box, setting everything on shelves, in cupboards, on coffee tables, in desk drawers, in wardrobes, under beds, on top of counters._

_“Niall! Niall, wait!” Harry shouted just as Niall was about to flatten the first box. “Can we build a fort? I mean, when else are you going to have this many, completely fort-worthy boxes at hand?” Harry suggested._

_Niall grinned. “Yes! Have you ever built a fort? Where do we start?”_

_It didn’t take very long. They lay down a base first, setting out the shape of the fort. From there, they built upwards, constructing walls, leaving a space as the door, and used extra boxes to build some towers on the corners of the walls. Next to the door, Harry drew a large heart and wrote “N+H” on the inside. Niall had laughed, grabbed the pen, and added “home sweet home”._

_“Everything we do,” Niall declared as they stood back to behold their creation._

_“Niall, wait, let me take a photo, just peek out from the top there,” Harry said excitedly as he gestured vaguely as the fort. He pulled out his phone as Niall got into position and tapped the screen._

The fort stood three boxes (about five feet five inches) high, and took up a large portion of the living room. Niall’s head was peeking out from behind the wall, next to one of the towers, and he was grinning wildly. His hair was messy and sticking up in some places, and he was wearing his glasses. Both of his thumbs were up, next to his face on either side. The writing next to the front door was visible at the edge of the photo, and it sent a pang of longing though Harry. It seemed like an eternity ago, and simultaneously the photo could have been taken yesterday. Harry checked the timestamp on the picture, and found that it had been taken almost a year and a half ago. He remembered exactly how happy they had been that night, and the night after, and every single night after that. In this place that they both called home. He wondered if Niall still lived there. If so, he wondered what had become of his room. Had it become somebody else’s room? Or had Niall moved out. And if so, where was he now?

Harry didn’t like these questions that were being stirred up, and he pushed them to the side with everything he had. He didn’t want to speculate. It didn’t matter. Or it did, but he didn’t want it to. He needed to condition himself out of this bad habit. Swipe.

_Fourth photo, taken very late one night or very early one morning_

_The front door slammed, and barely half a minute later, Harry pushed open the door to Niall’s room gently._

_“You still up?” he whispered. Niall’s bedside lamp was still on, but Niall looked like he was sleeping._

_“No, no I’m not, I was waiting for you, just resting my eyes,” Niall replied quietly. “Good party?”_

_“Yeah, yeah it was fine,” Harry said as he peeled off his jeans and pulled off his jacket and t-shirt._

_“Just gonna brush my teeth,” he mumbled as he padded off to the bathroom._

_When he returned, he dug out another, much more beat-up t-shirt from the wardrobe, pulled it over his head and crawled into bed with Niall._

_“Hey,” he whispered, resting his head in the crook of Niall’s neck, planting tiny kisses on his collarbone._

_“How drunk are you, on a scale from one to ten?” Niall asked him quietly._

_“Not very. It was supposed to be quite a “grown-up” party, so naturally they only had shite wine. Probably the stuff you get in boxes, y’know? So on your scale, I think I’m roundabout a four?” he replied, now moving up Niall’s neck, gently nipping at his skin between kisses._

_“Harry,” Niall hesitated, “are you sure? I don’t want t’do anything too crazy if you’re drunk. Okay? Tell me what’s okay. If you want to stop,” Niall checked sternly._

_“Yes - Niall - now - shut - up,” Harry breathed as his mouth moved up from Niall’s neck to his jaw, and from his jaw to his cheek and from his cheek to his mouth. It was still innocent, sweet kissing, with Harry’s hand cupping Niall’s cheek and Niall turned on his side to kiss him back._

_Niall wedged his arm underneath Harry and hoisted him up on top of him, kissing back harder, more passionately, more urgently, their tongues now finding each other. Harry’s knees were firmly planted either side of Niall’s thighs and he raked his hands through Niall’s hair. Harry’s t-shirt was bunching up now, and Niall glided his hand underneath it gently, fingertips skimming Harry’s back._

_“Off?” he breathed against Harry’s mouth._

_“Off,” Harry agreed as he leant back to tug off the shirt._

_He dropped it next to the bed and they resumed, Niall’s hands roaming Harry’s back and tangling in his hair. Harry pressed his body against Niall’s until he was convinced that they couldn’t be any closer, Niall’s skin fiery to the touch. He started back the way he came, this time kissing and nipping harder at Niall’s neck, leaving marks here and there as he kissed down his shoulders, down his chest._

The photo was, again, one that Niall had taken and shown Harry the next morning. Harry was sleeping peacefully. The glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows on his face as he lay there, his lips pouting, his hair surprisingly orderly considering the preceding events, the blankets draped around his waist almost artfully. He remembered that Niall had explained to him his whole thought process behind the photo, but he didn’t want to think about it. Because taking that photo has stemmed out of a burst of extreme love and devotion on Niall’s part. And thinking about that right now might just break him.

He scrolled through the entire folder, taking almost half an hour. He was not disturbed by anybody, which in hindsight he found surprising but at the time didn’t even think about. It seemed that in that half an hour, nothing beyond for the phone in his hand and the memories coursing through his entire self felt real. In that realm, the broken hearts didn’t exist, not really. Nothing outside of the bathtub really mattered. Unlocking the bathroom door and walking out felt like discovering a whole new world. Like being reborn. Domestic sounds came back to him - the sound of the oven humming monotonously in the kitchen, snippets of conversation flooding out from behind closed living room doors. He paused at the top of the stairs to collect himself, pushed a smile out onto his face because to be honest, he felt better. He had remembered the good times that they had shared, and they shone through the pain like a lighthouse in a storm. 

He was overwhelmed by another feeling - that of guilt. Thinking back now, he couldn’t comprehend why he had chosen to end it like he had. There were at least a thousand better ways that he could have gone about it, and he had chosen the wrong one. He had hurt Niall so badly, when it could have been avoided or at least lessened. If only he had known it at the time.

He turned, postponing going back downstairs, and instead directed himself to his childhood room. He sat down at his desk, pulled out a paper and pen, and began to write. Usually, when he wrote anything, it was a battle and he had to slave away at it, but this letter flowed as one from his mind through the pen and onto the page. He inked out the three-page apology letter in just under fifteen minutes. He needed Niall to see this. He desperately wanted Niall to read it, because it contained everything that he hadn’t said when he broke it off all those months ago. He folded up the sheets neatly, and dug out a pack of envelopes from the bottom of one of the desk drawers. He couldn’t believe that his parents hadn’t cleared out all of this junk already; he moved away from home close to six years ago. He’d leave the letter by Niall’s office one day, at the front desk.

_One week later_

Harry’s phone chimed from across the room. It was a Sunday morning, and the rain was dripping down the windowpanes of Harry’s tiny apartment. He was lounging on the couch, with a plate of pancakes in his lap, listening to the radio. His phone was on the kitchen counter. He took his time finishing his breakfast - whatever it was could most definitely wait.

Harry was definitely not ready for what it was.

Ni, 10:02AM  
_Read your letter just now. Can we talk? - Niall_

Harry cursed himself. He still hadn’t deleted Niall from his contacts, or even changed his name, but judging from Niall’s message, he had definitely thought that Harry had deleted him. But he also couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. This was real. This was a message that Niall had thought out and typed himself, and pressed send on. Harry’s hands shook as he typed out a response, his chest tight. He had thought that Niall would bin the letter immediately. 

Harry, 10:03AM  
_Yes. Do you want to meet someplace?_

He put the phone down. All of a sudden, the tightness had vanished. He was going to be able to apologise, face-to-face. They could rebuild this relationship. Not to a romantic end, but Harry was more than elated at the idea of being able to talk to Niall again. 

He put his plate into the sink, and lay back on the couch. His phone buzzed again.

Ni, 10:05AM  
_The bridge in the park, today at 2?_

**Author's Note:**

> I've never really done notes for my other stuff but. I felt like doing this now. Do people actually read these?  
> Ummm so basically I used lyrics from 'Photograph' for the title and also to inspire some bits.  
> None of the photos that I describe are ones that actually exist of Niall or Harry, thinking of them was pretty f*king hard.  
> I've never written angst before, so it was kind of difficult but I tried to kind of... add in things that I personally feel when I'm sad or whatever, which I guess is what writing is all about anyways.  
> I've also never written explicit smut, and I don't intend to. I know that this probably comes across as prudish but it's really not my thing so I'm not going to write it.  
> The place and time of their meeting that Niall proposes at the end is significant because it's the bridge, where they broke up, and 2 o'clock, which was the time of their first date. I mean it isn't the most elaborate symbolism or anything but I liked the idea so I put it in here just in case you missed it.


End file.
